


every little thing

by crownsandbirds



Series: no other companion [2]
Category: If We Were Villains - M.L. Rio
Genre: M/M, and guess what, bc oliver has no clue what he's doing, bc they're terribly in love, it's all super fucking soft, james cries a lot bc he's so happy and he's a crier, literally my first time writing smut, lots of talking, oh well, then making out, then more talking, then sex, there's more dialogues than actual smut, this is alexander's debut as a porn director it's his time to shine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-07
Updated: 2017-11-07
Packaged: 2019-01-30 17:16:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12657942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crownsandbirds/pseuds/crownsandbirds
Summary: "It feels like a pipe dream, but it also feels too good to be a dream."They're most vulnerable like this; tender, so tender it hurts.





	every little thing

**Author's Note:**

> 'all my flowers grew back as thorns  
> windows boarded up after the storm  
> he built a fire just to keep me warm  
> and i know i make the same mistakes every time  
> bridges burn, i never learn, at least i did one thing right.'
> 
> (call it what you want - ts)

What strikes Oliver the most is how the whole thing is simple and complicated at the same time. 

It's simple because, surprisingly, unexpectedly,  _ insanely _ , it's mutual. When he kisses James, James kisses back. He feels James' arms tighten around his neck, and the warm breath touch his face. He hears James’ voice muttering his name over and over in the short spans of time their lips aren’t pressed together, like a prayer or a mantra or lines he needs to memorize for the next rehearsal, like he can’t help himself at all. He feels -  _ God _ , at this rate he’s going to die - James holding on to him as if he’s scared to let go, as if he’s afraid this is all a dream, as if-

Oliver wonders if telling James that he feels the exact same thing would help any. Or if it’d just make the both of them even more possessive.

Then James whimpers, presses even closer, and Oliver stops wondering at all because this is where it gets complicated. 

He has no idea how to deal with this. If he’s being terribly honest, he has no idea what he’s even doing. All he knows is that, for the life of him, he’s physically unable to let go of James, and that he wouldn’t care if the world exploded around them because they’re  _ still kissing _ , and that, true to Alexander's words, he tastes  _ heavenly _ . The way James is calling his name, the way he's touching his arms and grabbing his hair and looking at him isn’t a way Oliver is at all familiar with. He was familiar to glancing when it was safe, to fleeting brushes of hands, to friendly wrestling and to having at least a few centimeters between them when they shared a bed. He’s not used to looking right into James’s eyes, not when their faces are so close, not when his pupils are wide-blown and bright, not when they’re quite like this. He’s not used to feeling James’ frantic heartbeat against his body. He’s not used to James taking hold of his hands and sliding them all the way down his spine until they’re holding his- oh. 

“Oliver, touch me, please.” James pants against his lips. Oliver obliges, tightens his grip on James' ass, and it earns him a soft moan, a shiver, and a very quiet, " _ Please _ ."

Oop, there it goes, his train of thought flying right out of the window. 

Again, Oliver has absolutely no clue what he's doing. All he knows is that, music be damned, James moaning is the single, most beautiful sound he's ever heard in his entire life. In a quick succession of frenzied thoughts, he wonders how James screaming his name in pleasure would sound. 

Dear God, what even is happening. 

Thankfully, Alexander seems to know enough for the three of them. 

For all of his bravado and snarky sarcasm, for all of his  _ experience _ , Alexander is surprisingly… caring. His touch is soft and constant, his fingers threading through Oliver's hair, brushing their shoulders and back, carefully holding James in place by grasping the back of his neck, pulling them apart momentarily to help them unbutton their shirts. James shivers as soon as he's shirtless, probably more out of anxiety than cold, and Alexander kisses him sweetly behind his ear, tells him, "You're so pretty, you're both so beautiful". Oliver closes his eyes, shakes a bit when James ducks his head down to nibble at his neck, and Alexander is there behind him, pressing his lips to his temple, murmuring, "It feels good, doesn't it? It's okay. It's alright. Just relax". 

His words are comforting, warm. Oliver breathes deeply, clears his head a bit. Wordlessly allows Alexander to separate them for a second, to guide James with a hand on the small of his back towards the bed and wait for him to sit and then lie down slowly. Watches as Alexander indulges in a kiss, his thumb caressing James' cheek, watches as they pull apart and Alexander whispers something that makes James laugh a little. It doesn't hurt, seeing him kiss someone else. It feels like they're being taken care of. It feels safe. 

He doesn't hesitate when Alexander extends a hand to him to beckon him to them. but he does trip on a shoe on his way. He doesn't have the time to be embarrassed, because soon the other two are laughing, and James' laughter is so clear and crystal and beautiful, he laughs too, and it's with a smile on his face that he sits down on the bed. 

James looks up at him, looks down at himself, at the bulge visible through his jeans, shrugs sheepishly as if to say,  _ sorry? _ Oliver takes his hand, presses a kiss on its back, can't find the words to explain he's so beautiful it's disorienting. He knows he should lie down too, knows he's allowed to touch and bite, but suddenly he feels guilty. He's not sure he should be doing this. James is much too perfect, much too good and fantastic and outworldly for his trembling lips and shaking hands. 

"You both want this." Alexander says, his voice cutting through the thick air. "You both need this. Talk. Make this easier for each other." he caresses Oliver's hair, lets his hand trail down the back of his neck and his shoulder, pauses at his collarbone, a light touch that makes him shiver. "Oliver, tell James what you told me the other day at the library." 

It takes him a second to remember, and when he does, he has to force himself not to look away from the boy looking up at him from the bed. "I- I said, well, um, I told him you're so beautiful that sometimes I don't believe you're real."

James' eyes widen, and he blushes, apparently tries not to fidget under the intense attention. 

"James." Alexander calls, and puts a comforting hand on James' chest when he startles at the sound of his name. "Remember that night you and Oliver shared a bed? When you came to my room? Tell him about that." 

James clears his throat, lowers his voice until it’s almost a whisper. “It was that time we had a leak and- and it was right above my bed? So you just said, like, oh, let’s share until they fix it, and we’ve done it plenty of times so I figured it was, you know, okay. But then in the middle of the night you turned and put your arm around my waist and pulled me close and - oh, God - I could feel your-” he swallows, averts his eyes, blushes even harder. Oliver is hanging to his every word. 

“Hmm?” Alexander grabs James’ chin gently, guides his head so he’s looking at them instead of the floor. “It’s okay, James. You can trust us. Go on.”

“I could feel your cock against my ass.” James flinches at his own words, but carries on. Oliver’s mouth has gone completely dry. “And I got hard. And I could feel your breath and I just - I bolted out. I went to Alexander’s room because he wouldn’t make any questions. And he didn’t. But goddamn Gwendolyn asked too many questions for the fucking tent scene and he ended up knowing anyway-”

Oliver lets himself lie on top of James, his hands at each side of his head so he doesn’t have to support his weight. “Jesus Christ, James.” he says, softly, unable to help himself. 

“I’m  _ sorry _ , okay, I just-” James is shaking again, and Oliver presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth to soothe him. 

“What in the world are you apologizing for?”

“For being disgusting?”

The idea is so fundamentally wrong to Oliver he barely comprehends it, and his voice comes out fierce in his honesty when he answers, “I swear to God all I can think about right now is how badly I want you.”

They stare at each other for a second, too stunned to say anything, until Alexander brushes a lock of hair out of James’ face and says, in an amused tone, “Well, I guess now we know who’s the bottom.” 

It’s such a simple, ridiculous remark, it destroys the tension. Oliver laughs helplessly, his face hidden in the curve of James’ throat, and James is giggling despite himself. Somewhere in the corner, Alexander is rummaging through the bedside drawer and putting a couple of things on the bed at his side, and then he moves into their space again. It still feels comfortable having him there, having someone who’s calm enough to talk them through, but conscient enough to let them enjoy each other. 

He nudges Oliver to the side a bit and cups James’ face in his hand, his expression considerably more serious now. “James, have you ever done this before with anyone?”

James grimaces at the question, but nuzzles against Alexander’s palm softly. “...I have.” He answers at last, in a small voice. “It’s... been a few months, but I have, yes.” 

Oliver moves back to sit between James' legs and decides not to ask, at least not for now, but he doesn't ignore completely the pang of jealousy and possessiveness in his chest. "Great." Alexander says. "Listen to me, okay? Don't be ashamed, there's absolutely nothing wrong with it. It'll make this better for both of you. I'm gonna need you to talk Oliver through this. Tell him what you like, what you prefer. Let him know if it hurts, let him know if it feels good. Sounds good, little prince?" he smiles reassuringly when James nods. "Perfect." 

He turns to Oliver then, pushes a small bottle to him. "Don't be nervous. You've both consented to this. You won't hurt him if you pay attention and listen." he allows Oliver to kiss him for a few seconds before putting his mouth to his ear and whispering, too low for James to hear, "He's told me he fingered himself thinking about you during break. Make him feel good, hm?" 

His smug little smile when he pulls back and sees Oliver's mouth hanging open is a glimpse of the snarky villain they see most of the time. He gets off the bed, grabs a shirt (clearly not his) from the floor and leaves with a soft "I'll be downstairs to avoid having anyone barging in on you. Be safe." 

As soon as he closes the door behind himself, James wraps his arms around Oliver's neck and captures his lips in an open-mouthed kiss much more intense than before. His naked skin is warm against Oliver's, and he gasps when Oliver hooks his leg over his waist and incidentally rubs their still-clothed cocks together. The sensation sends a jolt up Oliver's spine, and he does it again, more surely this time, just to hear James gasping once more. 

James pushes impatiently at the waistband of his jeans, panting, "Take it off, just-"

Oliver is really glad his fingers aren't trembling too much and he's able to unbutton James' pants and take them off without embarrassing himself too much. When his attention shifts to James' thighs, he completely forgets to be embarrassed. They're perfect, strong and gorgeous, and he moves down the bed to press kisses at the inner patch of exposed skin, unable to help himself. James lets out a pleased hum, which quickly turns into a moan when Oliver bites down, his hands flying up to grasp at Oliver's hair and pull when he sucks a little red mark. "Stop teasing!" James complains half-heartedly, but whimpers when Oliver sucks again at the same spot before looking up. 

"Sorry." Oliver smiles, satisfied and warm all over. "You're just too beautiful." 

“And you talk too much.” he pulls on his hair again, a silent plea. “Come here.”

Oliver takes the opportunity offered by James’ legs being spread open out of their own accord to accommodate him better as they kiss, and lets his hand wander down to palm curiously at the other's cock through his boxers. James arches off of the bed immediately, his spine curving beautifully, and Oliver smirks against his lips. James is naturally pretty, but like this he's downright  _ gorgeous _ ; he's so responsive in his arms he can't help but want to touch every single part of him, take his time to slowly find out everything that makes him shiver or gasp or whimper, find out what he needs to do to listen to James whispering his name in his ear like he can barely get a hold of himself.

"If you keep doing that, I'll come." James accuses, frowning up at him. Oliver kisses the frown out of his forehead. 

"Oh, I wouldn't mind." the idea of slowly coaxing an orgasm out of James sounds tremendously inviting.

" _ I _ would. Listen, next time you can have me on edge for as long as you want, for the whole damn day, but right now I'm hard and impatient, and I  _ want you. _ " 

The certainty and sureness behind James' declaration of want, coupled with the knowledge that  _ yes _ , there would be a next time, they would be able to do this how many times they wanted, however they wanted, force Oliver to close his eyes and take a deep breath to ground himself. "Okay." he lets out a breath. "Okay, that works for me." 

He sits back and reaches behind his back to fumble for the small bottle of lube Alexander left for them; the sound of the lid opening startles him a bit for no reason. He dimly notices it's only one-third full. "Do you want to do this yourself or..."

James blushes harder. "No, just- take off your pants and- God, I've never had to do this much talking before - lube your fingers and I'll talk you through." 

Oliver quietly obeys, trying not to get distracted by the way James' eyes devour his entire body when he shuffles out of his pants or the breathless whisper of, "So fucking hot" he lets out. The lube is cold on his skin, and he rubs his fingers in an attempt to warm it up a bit. The inevitability of what they're about to do reminds him of a little weight inside his mind, and the words are already blurting out as he watches, transfixed, James taking off his boxers, "Who else had you like this?"

James looks away from him, ashamed. "Some of my father's students?" he answers uncertainly. "Mostly they come over to look at our library and flirt with mom but some of them, well… Apparently, I'm pretty enough for them to risk being caught or something." he reaches for Oliver, cups his face in his hand as if he can barely believe he's real and there. "I- I always thought of you. Every time since we met, I couldn't stop thinking of you." 

Oliver covers James' hand with his dry one, kisses him quickly to distract him from the shame. "It's okay, James. It's enough that you're here now." 

He startles when James grabs his wrist, guides his lubed fingers to his ass, spreads his legs wider. "Have me." he says, slightly out of breath. "Make me forget them all."

The order is simple and true and Oliver can't help but obey, like he's done ever since he met this little sparrow of a boy who was born to have a crown on his head. He presses closer to James, breathing in the faint smell of his cologne, lands an affectionate kiss to his neck, and puts just the tip of his middle finger inside. 

"Go on." James says, gripping his shoulders tighter. "Slowly, but don't stop. I won't break." 

While Oliver is fingering him carefully, speeding up only when he's ordered to, taking deep breaths to ground himself somehow against the tightness of James around his finger and the idea of actually fucking him, James lets out a gasp, and barely has the time to instruct, "Move a little to the left" when Oliver moves his digit to the side and James arches off of the bed with a loud moan of his name that has Oliver shivering all the way down his spine.

"Guess I found something, huh?" he asks after a second, and James just rakes his nails down his back and moans, "Please, give me another, please-"

His voice sounds strained and a bit high-pitched and Oliver doesn't know what to do with the knowledge that hearing James beg sends jolts directly to his own cock, but he saves it for later and presses another finger beside the other, pushing them both inside and savoring the feeling of James whimpering and wrapping his legs around his waist in an unconscious plea. He mercilessly presses down on that sweet spot, enjoying the reactions he gets, but almost pulls out entirely when he sees tears welling up in James' bright grey eyes. 

"God, sorry, am I hurting you-" he asks, frantic, but James just shakes his head.

"It just feels so good, Oliver, oh, fuck, I'm so happy, you feel so good" James mutters over and over, and Oliver speeds up the thrust of his fingers as James pleads softly for him to go  _ faster, harder, please, Oliver- _

Almost a paradox, he kisses the tears falling slowly on James' flushed cheeks, and muffles a moan of his own against the curve of the other's neck when he's ordered to add yet another finger. He's conscious of every single thing now, of the flutter of James' wet eyelashes, the little frown of pleasure in his forehead, the sting of the red tracks left by the fingernails of the boy beneath him.

"Okay, okay, that's got to be enough-" James mumbles, breathless, and shakily lifts himself up on his elbows to put his lips centimeters away from Oliver's ear, "Fuck me, Oliver." 

Oliver nods, wordless, as he fumbles to open the packet with the condom, as he slides it on his cock. He grips the back of James' thighs (carefully, always, James said he wouldn't break but Oliver sees royalty when he looks down at him, sees something bright and heavenly, and he can't treat him with anything other than the utmost care), presses their foreheads together, and pushes in. 

It's almost too much. James is tight and warm and simply, downright  _ perfect _ , feels as perfect as in everything he does, almost too good to deal with, almost too good to be even real, and Oliver's grip on his thighs tightens to what's probably the point of bruising and he lets out a long, throaty moan because he can't help himself at all, not when it feels like  _ this _ .

_ How in the world have I lived without this for so long? _ he wonders, in a daze, but when he glances down and sees James with his grey eyes wide at him, realizes he's said it out loud. James has his pretty lips open, his nails carving marks at Oliver's shoulders, his feet pressing against the small of his back to urge him deeper. 

"How-" Oliver starts but James clenches down around him and he grits out  _ Fuck _ at how incredible it feels. "How do you feel?"

James would've looked smug if his eyes weren't filling with pleasure-induced tears again. As it is, he just whimpers, pulls him closer and says, "Move", and Oliver does.

Every thrust earns him a loud moan, every slow drag out earns him a full-body shiver. James reacts to sex with every single atom of his body, burning like embers, and Oliver tries to ground himself by indulging in sucking a dark mark on exposed neck, claiming him truly, once and for all, as James throws his head back, smiling as if he's never been this happy in his entire life. 

"Oliver, Oliver-" he repeats, his voice reverent and whispered, broken by gasps and whimpers, and he sounds completely blissed out. Oliver almost retreats in his shell of self-deprecation when he hears the way James breathes out his name, as if he's in prayer, but is shoved back to this precious reality when he hears, "I love you so much, I'm so happy, oh,  _ fuck-" _

Oliver really, really can't help himself when he puts James' legs over his shoulders and thrust even deeper inside him. James lets out something that sounds half like a scream and half like a moan, back arching in a gorgeous curve, tilting his head to the side to allow Oliver to bite his throat. It's not exactly soft anymore; it's raw and intense and strong, but Oliver pulls back to look into James' eyes and James sobs out of pure happiness, his face wet with tears, and the amount of tenderness between them clenches at his heart.

It's with a very sweet kiss to his lips that Oliver whispers, "I love you so damn much" to James, wraps his hand around James' cock and watches as the other boy comes, with a beautiful scream of Oliver's name, clinging to him for life, shaking from head to toe. 

It's the most gorgeous thing Oliver has ever seen in his entire life. 

He takes James' legs off of his shoulders and shifts to pull out of him, but James holds onto him like he's terribly afraid to let go. "No. Come inside me. Please." he says, and Oliver simply has no power when it comes to this. 

It only takes him a couple more thrusts; his vision whites out and he buries his face on the crook of James' neck, moaning against his skin.

They stay like that for a moment, unwilling to let go of each other, but it eventually gets too hot and too sticky, and Oliver hates the grimace on James' face and the way he flinches when he pulls out, so he kisses his temple to comfort him as much as possible before taking off the condom and blindly searching for the trashcan to throw it out. 

He comes back to bed immediately after he gets rid of it, and brings James close to himself, wrapping an arm tightly around his waist, admiring the red marks he left behind on his throat. 

"You're clingy." James comments, amused, but his fingers are already threading on Oliver's messy hair, and he stays silent for a moment before turning on his side and brushing Oliver's face almost in disbelief. "Are you even real?"

Oliver chuckles, kisses him quickly. "Very real, very tired, very in love with you." 

"It feels like a pipe dream, but it also feels too good to be a dream." 

They're most vulnerable like this; tender, so tender it hurts. Oliver has always detested the afterglow with the other people he fucked, detested the awkward silence, the sweat, the unwelcome warmth. 

But this: reaching for a blanket as James wipes his stomach with a tissue from the box Alexander has on his bedside table, wrapping both of them with the blanket, seeing from up close the flushed pink of his cheeks and getting to hear him sniff because apparently there are still a couple of tears left ("Didn't pick you for a crier." he teases, and James rolls his eyes, "Really? Oliver, I cried the first time you kissed me.") and to hear him admit almost proudly that he's probably going to feel this in the morning, being able to shower him with soft touches and reassurances that yes, he meant what he said, yes, he's terribly in love with him. 

This: James blushing  _ again _ when he tells Oliver what he thought about when he fingered himself (them alone on the stage after hours, making the most intimate production for no one but themselves; them on their bedroom on lazy saturday mornings; them making out at parties so that everyone could see they truly belonged to each other), discussing what it's like to kiss Alexander, how good and intense it feels, laughing when they talk about how they pined for years without a single clue, making plans of future dates. 

This: James falling asleep a little while after, pretty lips parted open in sweet breaths, his perfect skin marked with the signs of Oliver's love. 

This: going downstairs because he's unable to fall asleep at all, throwing a shirt that smells faintly of Alexander, feeling his legs weak because of what just happened, feeling his back sting with the marks James left behind with his nails.

This is everything. 

**Author's Note:**

> honestly?? i blame this whole thing in richelieux and eliselaserre. it's all their fault.  
> (this is alex's debut as a porn director)  
> i've been writing since i was 12 and this is my literal first time writing smut. i had this rule in my life that i'd never write smut bc i'm easily embarrassed.  
> well. how the tables have tabled.  
> someone had to write the first smut for this fandom 
> 
> (also me and richelieux now have an entire backstory for james and his father's students)
> 
> basically i really really love this book and i really really love james and oliver. i'm sorry, Rio, for tainting your characters with my writing.


End file.
